


Intimidation Game

by happinesssdeceit (crescenttwins)



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/happinesssdeceit
Summary: gang!AUFor all that Agon wears the banner of Shinryuuji on his back, the members of his gang do not approach him in battle.





	Intimidation Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inelegantly (Lir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/gifts).



> Originally posted at [ Bonus Round 2!](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=12060905#cmt12060905)

For all that Agon wears the banner of Shinryuuji on his back, the members of his gang do not approach him in battle. He cripples a few of them before the gang learns that the members impede him, force him to draw a line between comrade and enemy in a way that has nothing to do with strength and respect.

Agon twists a torn pipe in his hands, _supervising_ clean up. There is nothing that should draw his eye to the alleyway at the edge of today's battleground, but when his eyes move there he sees familiar lanky figure and the glint of sunlight off of blond hair.

He glances over the Shinryuuji members that are still lingering, and stands. There are no complaints at his departure and no offers of backup for wherever he chooses to go as Agon moves out of their space.

It's a short distance to the alleyway where Hiruma is standing. The trash is practically naked, only a Glock 19 in a shoulder holster under his suit jacket and an Ultima Knife ruining the line of his trousers at the ankle.

"Fucking dreads," the man greets when Agon offers the cigarette pack to him, pale fingers drawing out a single stick. He brings it to his lips, lets it rest there as Agon taps out his own cigarette.

"Fucking trash," Agon responds, swapping the crumpled pack for a lighter. It takes two flicks of his thumb to draw the flame from the beaten thing, and he tosses it to the side once the flame dies.

Because the trash knows him, those sharp eyes stay focused on him, don't follow the trail of the metal lighter as it crashes into the opposite wall.

Hiruma cackles, instead, exposing the line of his throat, "you carry trash around now?"

"Shut up," Agon bites out, leans forward to catch the tip of Hiruma's cigarette with his own. It takes a moment to burn, and in the moments between Agon's hand goes to steady the trash's back in the awkward position.

The moment is lost when a crash comes from the clean up crew, some fuckface newbie dropping a lead pipe, and Agon steps away.

"Brave of you to leave your...kids," Hiruma says, testing the word in his mouth.

Agon grimaces at the word. "I could say the same to you."

Hiruma takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke into Agon's face. "Who says I'm alone?"

Agon looks further into the alleyway, meets the eyes of the muscled hand-to-hand fighter that the trash and fatty have been letting follow them around recently. He smirks, puts an easy hand around the back of Hiruma's neck to draw him in closer.

"At that distance," Agon says, almost gently, "you might as well be."

The nudge of the knife against his ribs makes him giddy.


End file.
